


To Be A Darcy

by FanficCornerWriter19



Series: Equals, Lovers, Soulmates [2]
Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Multi, a literal TON of OC's (male and female), the young Darcys featured in MTMDF's epilogue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 21:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13532544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficCornerWriter19/pseuds/FanficCornerWriter19
Summary: [Sequel to MTMDF - if you haven't read that, go do it.]The young Darcys, the children of Elizabeth and William, grow up in the reduced world of Pemberley, Lambton, and Kympton. They laugh and they cry, and they fall and get up again, but never is there a day without either a smile or a tear or both in the Darcy household.However that world is rocked to its foundations when someone dear to all seven of them turns up murdered; in the aftermath, middle child Edmund chooses to put his deductive skill and logic to use, but he must also shoulder the brunt of guilt and pain.When another death, even closer to home, strikes Pemberley, can Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth, Bennet, Beth, Edmund, and Rosie remember what it is to be a Darcy?





	To Be A Darcy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EJ06](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EJ06/gifts).



> Hi everyone!  
> Okay, so TBAD is the sequel to More Than My Dearest Friend. You might want to read that first as you will understand literally NOTHING of William and Elizabeth's past together, as I made HUGE changes in the storyline.  
> So, here we go.  
> This story is a dash darker than its prequel, as the only ones who die in MTMDF are - no wait, there's only one - the ones (one) no one likes. In this one though, the first time poor Anne is mentioned she's dead, and there are two more deaths that I really hate to write but I absolutely HAVE to.  
> So try to enjoy these first few anecdotes before you have to bawl your eyes out.

One can imagine that Lady Catherine was not overly pleased with her nephew’s choice of wife. In fact, that would be quite an understatement. However piqued Fitzwilliam’s anger was by the abusive letters his aunt sent to him, especially venomous towards his bride, he and Elizabeth were always greatly amused by the childish ranting shown in such letters.

But secretly Fitzwilliam was furious. For doing only what his father and mother did, for following his greatest heart’s desire for years of his life, his aunt showed him contempt when she lauded her sister for making such an advantageous match.  
He was determined never to answer his aunt again, and refused to visit Kent with Elizabeth or, later, their infant twins.

When Elizabeth learned of this, though, she urged him to at least write back to his aunt. He at first refused vehemently. “God, no! How could I do what I abhor so much? I would give up Pemberley before I allow you near a woman who would bring you only pain,” he avowed.

“I barely know her. How could she give me pain when I care nothing for her whatsoever?” Elizabeth stated calmly.

“Why are you so determined that I mend my relationship with her, then?” Fitzwilliam muttered.

“Because I know she is your aunt, and I shall not be the cause of strife in your family, however much you love me, Fitzwilliam.”

“I suppose you are correct; trust is hard enough to find within London and its haute ton in any case. Alright then, I shall try – but only when my temper has cooled down.” His cerulean eyes flashed dangerously. “And God help her if she tries it again.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I am the one with child, my love, and yet you are the one with the stormy temper!”

Chuckling, he grabbed the young Bennet by the tail of his little toga before he could fall down the kitchen stairs. “I suppose. But that has always been my nature, dearest Elizabeth, and so I can no more repress it than one can prevent spring.” His mouth quirked up at one corner as he took up his pen to write:

> _Dear Lady Catherine,_
> 
> _Despite what you have to say of my Elizabeth, I daresay she is the more genteel of the two of us, for I was determined never to speak to you again for the prodding you gave my dangerous temper. However, she convinced me otherwise, and here I take up pen and paper to begin a mission of peace I once had no inclination to embark upon._
> 
> _Madam, I must request you to be more moderate in your language, for Elizabeth reads all my correspondence, and I would hardly call your letters suitable for a gentlewoman to read, let alone write. While we do derive much amusement from it, make no mistake, I also vehemently dislike your continuous ranting, especially after the fact._
> 
> _Aunt, I have married Elizabeth, and no amount of raging is going to make it otherwise. You may be content with imagining a reality in which either Anne happens to be the love of my life, or I am stupid enough to cast aside love for duty. Pick your poison, but know that it has never come to pass in this world of ours._
> 
> _In fact, if you had intended me to love Anne, as I had already informed you at the age of eight that only the deepest of loves would induce me to matrimony, you should not have made so much of her sickly constitution, which was only a matter of small consequence. What, it takes her a bit longer to recover from mere influenza and you make it sound as though she might die of consumption any moment? Foolishness!_
> 
> _In order to complete the extension of this olive branch, you are issued an invitation to visit us at Pemberley sometime this fortnight, for wild horses could not drag me to Rosings Park at this time, and so since we shall not come to you, if you wish to see me, it is you who must come to us._
> 
> _I do apologize for my last letter – it was bordering on uncivil. And having offered peace, I bid you adieu._
> 
> **_Fitzwilliam Darcy_ **

* * *

“Well?”

“Good enough, Fitzwilliam. That should convince her that you stand your ground, but are willing to reconcile. I must say your eloquence has quite improved since the day you stumbled for words and it all came out in a jumble of tactless drivel.”

Fitzwilliam laughed. “I once found it very hard to laugh at that day, but now I seem to have no problem with it. Perhaps it is because it was so childish of me to want to keep it to myself when you were chiefly the concern of it.” With a serious air, he asked, “Would you really have come to love me then, if I had told you?”

“I already loved you as I did not love any other man, William. You were my closest confidant, my hero, and my equal – not to mention that even as a child who cared nothing for such things, I found you uncommonly handsome!”

“That was not a direct answer,” said her husband. “Come now, my love, tell me the truth!” The laughing threat was punctuated by a peck on her lips, and he quickly withdrew with a roguish grin.

“I would not have,” she replied. “I would not have, all those years ago. I was barely sixteen, and you were three-and-twenty – if only for the sake of freeing each other for others we might love better, I would not have fallen in love with you.”

“I was already head over heels besotted, Lizzy love,” said he, with a rueful laugh and a smile. “I simply did not see it. What hurt the most was to finally know that I was trying to love you as best as a boy who has never yet offered his heart to anyone can, and to watch myself ruin my chance to win yours.”

“Well, you _have_ , and so no more of the gloomy contemplations for now, dear Fitzwilliam!” Elizabeth kissed him suddenly, surprising him.

* * *

In time they saw Lady Catherine’s grand chaise and four appear in Pemberley’s driveway, not a se’nnight after the letter must have reached Rosings. “Lady Catherine must have travelled with all haste to see her favourite nephew,” Elizabeth quipped, watching from the window.

“What for? I have not married Anne – ergo, I am no longer her favourite!” her husband called from the nursery, trying to separate his quarrelling children before they did themselves any harm.

“She has arrived here sooner than was expected,” Elizabeth answered. A groan followed from the nursery as an exhausted Fitzwilliam limped out with a twin in each arm. “These two are far more than a handful – quite two armfuls!” he commented. “It had to be twins.” His sigh was more for theatrical effect than for any other purpose.

“Normally it would be the mother saying that,” Elizabeth smiled.

“And you _did!_ ” he countered.

A startled footman scrambled into the room to announce Lady Catherine de Bourgh in the parlour.

“I suppose I shall have to get that,” Fitzwilliam sighed, setting his son firmly in his mother’s arms and more securely balancing his daughter, who sat up and stuck her tongue out at her brother. “Ha, no!” Fitzwilliam rebuked the girl. “No sticking out your tongue, Anne Elizabeth Darcy!”

“Yes, Papa,” she said, turning cerulean eyes to him. He had wished for Elizabeth’s eyes, but Elizabeth had laughed at him and simply said she was thankful they were his. In all honesty, he saw more of Elizabeth in his son and daughter than of himself. The tinge of red in their dark hair. The freckles across their noses. Their love of life and nature.

Carrying the two-year-old, he opened the door and stepped in. “Lady Catherine,” he greeted the lady within. “As you can see, it is quite impossible to bow, but as we are family, I trust you will forgo the formalities.” Setting Beth down, he took Bennet from Elizabeth and put him down too.

Lady Catherine scrutinized the young pair before beckoning to them. “Come here, young man.”

Exchanging a look with his sister, Bennet slid off the chair they had chosen. “No, no, the boy!” Lady Catherine told him.  
“But I am the boy,” he protested. It was true that with his curly dark hair and boy’s coats, he looked very much like a little girl, but the twins knew which was which.

“Stop playing tricks with me, young lady,” Lady Catherine sniffed. “Sit down and let your brother come forward. At least _one_ of you two must be a boy.”

“He is the boy!” Beth cried, squeaking with laughter. “I am the girl, and he is my brother!”

“Impudent little troublemakers,” Lady Catherine ordered; “tell me which one of you is the boy!”

“I am,” Bennet repeated, raising his hand. “Ben,” he explained, pointing at himself; “Beth,” pointing at his sister.

“His name is Bennet Fitzwilliam Charles, Aunt, in case you harboured any doubts,” Fitzwilliam remarked cheekily, watching from the door with Elizabeth standing next to him. “And for your information, the twins _are_ a boy and girl pair. This is my daughter, Anne, although we call her Beth.”

“Why?” his aunt demanded.

“Her name is Anne Elizabeth Jane Darcy – very easy, really.”

“At least there was one boy in the brood,” Lady Catherine said, looking at Elizabeth with contempt. “I hope, for the sake of Pemberley, that the child she is carrying is a boy, for with no spare, where should Pemberley go after your death, Darcy?”

“To Beth, actually, as Pemberley is not entailed on the male line, and Beth is seven minutes Bennet’s senior,” Fitzwilliam replied, smirking. “And in any case, if Beth should die, or marry, her brother would take up the reins.” Understanding what her father meant, Beth piped up, “I share with Bennet!”

“Meaning?” Lady Catherine thundered, turning on the twins.

“Meaning I share Pemb’ley with Bennet!” Beth said proudly. “We twins, so we share!”

Before Lady Catherine could get upset over her misinterpretation of Beth’s words, Fitzwilliam amended, “She means to share _control_ of Pemberley with her brother, not to literally split it into two to share.”

Exchanging a look with his wife, Fitzwilliam coughed into one hand, trying not to laugh. His cerulean eyes twinkled outrageously. Elizabeth caught their children’s eye, and Ben and Beth strove not to laugh.

At length, after asking more and more questions, Lady Catherine swept out of the room, allowing the Darcys to finally fall over laughing.


End file.
